Trunks Birth
by Xanaphia
Summary: Bulma's in the hospital and Vageta dose the strangest thing!


The Birth of Trunks  
By: Kell  
"Veeeegggggeeeeeeetttaaaa! I hate you! I hate you! If I ever survive this I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands!" Bulma's tirade was abruptly cut off as another contraction spasmed within her. The medical staff tried to soothe the woman in labor, saying she would be fine, but Bulma spat back, "FINE?! I 've got a half-Saiyan baby using my uterus for a gravity room to work out in, and you say I'll be fine?! Aaangh!" Once again, the baby made its presence known to the mother-to-be.  
Tactfully, no one asked about the father-to-be's whereabouts. Bulma hadn't even bothered to look for Vegeta, after he had learned she had conceived, those months ago. It had only been a few hours after she had told him the news, when he had simply disappeared. Goku claimed not to feel his ki anywhere, and if anyone was sensitive to anyone's ki, it was Goku's to Vegeta's, mutually.  
Bulma's training coaches, one planned on, the other two, impromptu, had their hands quite full. Chichi was dabbing at Bulma's forehead, wiping away the sweat that was forming on her brow. Of anyone on Earth, it was Chichi who understood most what Bulma was going through, physically. Chichi knew what it was, birth, that act which made a woman more and less than what she would ever be in her life.  
Goku and Yamcha, the other two coaches, were barely holding their own as Bulma flung two of Earth's most powerful warriors around like rag dolls. There really was no chance they could get out of this enforced coaching duty, either, as each of Bulma's hands were locked in their hair, up to the scalp.  
Goku, who was a bit confused about the matter of birth (though less confused about Bulma's volatile temper), took the hauling on his head in a good hearted way. When his friendly eyes met Bulma's pain-filled ones, a sheepish grin rossed his face.  
"Oy, Bulma," he said, as Bulma's labor pains caused her to convulse briefly, "you sure are angry today. Are you sure this is all I can do to help?" The woman in questions growled and yelled out.  
"Men! Damn you all! Uuungh!"  
Yamcha, who had helped fight battles that had saved the world, wasn't doing so well. He wasn't sure, but he felt reasonably confident that it was Bulma's constant pounding of his head on the metal rails of the hospital bed that was making his vision go all dark and fuzzy. The nurses were keeping track of Bulma's vital signs. Regardless of how she felt, she was within normal limits.  
Bulma, on the other hand, had never felt so helpless in her life. Her body rippled with a force she couldn't control, and that made a rage build within her. Was it so much, she thought as another contraction caused her to flinch, to expect Vegeta to simply stick around? Perhaps so; Saiyans had more casual relationships with the opposite sex than Yamcha, and that was saying a lot about the race that once was.  
She glanced over, as a sensation in her labor pains allowed her to loosen the death-grips she'd grabbed on to the moment the two men had walked in. Goku pulled up a seat, and rubbed his hand through his hair. Bulma had a VERY strong grip when she was angry, he thought. A rather bruised Yamcha slid to the ground, grateful he hadn't gone prematurely bald. Pregnancy was a warfront not meant for men, he thought.  
Chichi noted the paleness of Bulma's face. This was not an easy labor for Bulma, she thought. Shouldn't the medical staff be more worried? Obviously, they were not.  
Goku's stomach growled. Bulma took a swat at Chichi's husband, crying out, "how can you think of food at a time like this?" Goku had the grace to look sorry.  
"Well, it has been 36 hours since you came into the room," said a nurse, noting the time on her watch.  
"What?! 36 hours?! Well, what are you three doing here? Get out and get something to eat before you collapse! Go on, get, go, go, go!" cried Bulma, shooing the coaches in the direction of the door. Chichi, Goku, and Yamcha promised to return as soon as they could. "Nothing's likely to happen anyway," Bulma agreed, watching as her friends went out the doors.  
When the baby finally came, it was amidst more screams and moans. Bulma felt like her midsection was performing the final indignity. It had turned against her, frightened her, hurt her. Not it was trying to squeeze her innards out through her uterine muscles. Except, except, amidst all the mounting and rising pressure, there was a need. The climatic wave of increased activity pushed at Bulma's heart. It inexorably rose with the pain, until need and anticipation became one. With a final effort, Bulma arched her back, and gave a final push. With a heave of almost inhuman strength, a tiny, wet, squalling male child came into the world. A child with a tail.  
"Oh," murmured Bulma, opening her eyes as the pressure within her suddenly let go. She didn't seem especially nonplussed by the tail. In fact, she didn't seem overly impressed with the baby.  
"Will he always look like a tomato?" she asked dazedly, as nurses cleaned and wrapped the baby. "I thought he'd look like his father, at least." Bulma didn't hear the answer, if there was one. She was just aware of a sudden, great weariness within her. All her strength was gone. She lay back against the stack of pillows.  
The monitoring medic gasped. Bulma was totally flatline. The others in the room froze a moment, as the harsh whine of the heart monitor intruded. Suddenly the whole crew sprang into action.  
"No pulse! No heart beat!" cried out one nurse, after checking Bulma's vital signs. There was no flicker in her pupils when light was shone directly into them. In the background, a baby was squalling the funny, thin cry of the newborn. Outside the room, unnoticed but most definitely present, an individual who was rarely around, but missed nothing, felt the flicker of someone's ki weakening.  
The double doors of the labor room were forcefully pushed open. In the entrance stood a man short in stature, but exhuded an aura of sheer arrogance. Vegeta strode in quickly, almost running. He shoved medics aside, and could care less when they hit the opposite wall. As he tore off his gloves, he roared out:  
"Bulma! Don't you dare leave me!" He placed his hands over the prone woman's heart, and then instinctively- almost negligently, in fact kicked out behind him, sending another medic who was in the way flying. The Prince of Vegeta-sai paid them no further attention.  
Vegeta retreated into his mind, and reached out to Bulma through her fading ki. She didn't even know she was dying! Vegeta pressed his lips together, and began to concentrate on the energy in his own ki. His hands, the focus for his gathering energy, began to glow softly, as if they were getting ready to blast something. Instead, they gently transferred healing energy to Bulma's body. As gently as he could, his mind prodded hers.  
"Bulma. wake up. You can't die yet. You can't die. There's still so much you have to do." Vegeta paused a moment; he thought he sensed a flicker, deep within.  
"There's no time for you to die yet; don't sleep. Don't go to sleep yet. There's still so much. I haven't told you." Was that another flicker answering him? It was getting harder to tell.  
"Bulma, damnit, don't you die because I need you!" Vegeta sent a jolt of energy into her body. The heart monitor flared, then began to beep with a steady rhythm.  
At the same time, Bulma's body simultaneously took in a breath of life sustaining oxygen. Vegeta hovered over Bulma's body, making sure her ki was strong enough, and wouldn't fade any time soon. Nodding briefly, the Prince of Vegeta-sai left the room, growling out, "damn humans.. Too fragile to survive even 36 hours in labor." Only Bulma or Goku would have noticed the slight tremor in his hands, or the look of tender relief he had shown as Bulma was brought back to the land of the living.  
It was a short time later that Goku, Yamcha, and Chichi came in. Everything was a flurry of activity, and no one paid the three coaches (one planned on, the other two impromptu) any mind. Goku immediately sensed the vestiges of Vegeta's ki; that, and the dents in the wall only reinforced his thoughts. But since no one was killed that he could tell, Goku didn't really think it worth looking in to. "Hm," was all he said.  
"Oh! Bulma! How could you have the baby without us," scolded Chichi, though it was in a friendly manner. She was hanging over the incubator, peering at the baby within. Bulma's eyes opened, and she smiled wearily.  
"I just had the most wonderful dream," she said, "I dreamt Vegeta said he needed me." Chichi had brought the baby over to see his mother. The look he gave the woman who bore him was thoughtful, as his little mouth scowled at the world.  
"Chichi," asked Bulma in a low voice, "is there something wrong with my baby?" The question startled Chichi.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well," Bulma replied, "is he supposed to look like a red potato?" Yamcha poked Goku in the ribs.  
"So much for moms loving their kids at first sight, huh?" Goku merely looked distracted, and replied, "huh?"  
"Never mind," Yamcha grumbled, rubbing the sore spots on his scalp. Chichi smiled, "Oh! No, he'll get better, he really will. He'll be handsome as his father, I'll bet." At the mention of the father, Bulma sighed.  
"It really was a wonderful dream," she whispered, touching her baby's chubby fingers. He grabbed at them, squeezing them with considerably more strength than any normal baby would have. Bulma managed to extricate her hand, and settled down to sleep. "I just wish someday it might have come true.  
"Um," Goku said, scratching his head.  
The End 


End file.
